


Thanksgiving Homecoming

by goodiecornbread



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:36:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27388063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodiecornbread/pseuds/goodiecornbread
Summary: Patrick takes David home with him for Thanksgiving.Patrick coming out.
Relationships: Alexis Rose & David Rose, Clint Brewer/Marcy Brewer, Marcy Brewer & David Rose, Marcy Brewer & Patrick Brewer, Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 20
Kudos: 115





	1. Chapter 1

It was a slow morning, and David was going crazy. He stood at the side wall, arranging and rearranging the scarves, first by length, then by color.

"I'm going for a coffee," he declared. 

"You've had two already," Patrick reminded him from the register, not looking up from his computer. David huffed. He crossed his arms. Uncrossed. Crossed again.

"Well what are you doing? Maybe I can help."

Patrick chuckled quietly and looked up at his boyfriend. "I am going over our past few months of sales to fill out a grant renewal." 

David gave a tight smile and nodded. "Mmhmm. Well. I will let you keep that up." Patrick smiled and went back to his laptop. "I am going to…" David paused, looking around the empty store. It had been empty most of the day, and frankly most of the past few weeks, since the local students left the small communities for university at the end of summer.

Suddenly, the phone rang. "I got it!" David shouted, practically sprinting across the store. He leaned across the counter reaching for the phone, his fingers still a foot away. Without looking up, Patrick picked up the receiver and placed it in David's hand. David loved how they moved together, always knowing what the other one needed, like second nature. He cleared his throat, put on a professional voice. "Rose Apothecary!"

"Hello, David dear, it's Marcy."

"Hello, Mrs. Brewer!" Patrick looked up at David. "I'm guessing you'd like to talk to your son?"

"If you wouldn't mind, dear," Marcy replied warmly, a smile in her voice. David smiled and handed the phone to Patrick. He loved when the Brewers called, loved talking with them. He hadn't met them in person yet, but Patrick face-timed them when the store opened, for a personal tour, and they called at least once a week. They were always so kind, wholesome, and happy. It was not lost on David why he gravitated to their stability so much.

"Hey mom, how's it going?" Patrick asked, smiling immediately. The Brewers and their smiling. David shook his head, pressing in his own smile, and walked around the counter and placed his hands on Patrick's shoulders, rubbing up and down his biceps. "That sounds really nice," Patrick said to his mother, leaning back into David. "We haven't really talked about it, but I'll run it past David." His boyfriend squeezed his shoulders at the sound of his own name. "Alright, I'll ask him… Yep, I'll give you a call back later tonight… Okay, sounds good. I love you, Mom. Bye."

"Bye!" David called as Patrick replaced the receiver. "So…?" He asked.

Patrick turned to him, looking up. "So that was my Mom," he started, intentionally dragging out the conversation. David would be annoyed if Patrick wasn't so cute with his playful smile. "And she asked," Patrick continues slowly, "if I was coming home for Thanksgiving."

"That's like a month and a half away," David replied, trying to remember what week of November they had had the Parade Parties every year at his gallery.

"Maybe in New York, but here in Canada, it's next week." 

"Oh, shit, yeah," David mumbled. "The Roses were never big on, um, holidays that aren't Christmas." He looked over at Patrick, hoping he didn't remember The Number. "And that was really more of a statement than a holiday." Patrick smiled and held David's hand, rubbing his thumb over the silver rings in the way that gave David butterflies.

"Well," Patrick continued, "it's next Monday, and she wants me to drive out Sunday afternoon." 

David withdrew his hands, wringing them together. "So you probably won't be home til Tuesday," he thought aloud, eyes squeezed shut, "So I'll run the store for two days, alone. That should be fine." He really dreaded the thought of three days without Patrick, let alone two days alone at the store. He opened his eyes and looked at Patrick. "That will be fine."

Patrick smiled and stood, putting his hands around David's waist and pulling him close. "Or…"

"Or?"

"Or we could close the store for two days, and you could come with me." Oh. Oh. This was kind of a big deal.

"No, no, I'm not going to intrude," David sighed. He'd been the unwanted houseguest far too many times to want to do that to the Brewers.

"It's not an intrusion," Patrick encouraged, "my mom specifically asked me to invite you. That is, if you want to go." 

"Go with you," David processed, his heart on fire, "to your childhood home… and meet your parents… for Thanksgiving."

"Yeah, that about sums it up," Patrick agreed confidently.

David grinned, placing his arms on his boyfriend's shoulders. "That sounds perfect." He declared, leaning down for a kiss. "Meeting my boyfriend's parents." They pulled together for a hug, as David's chest bloomed with warmth.

+++++++++

"Um, are you sure they even want you there?" Alexis asked, painting her nails at the table. David huffed and threw down the magazine he was trying to read.

"Yes!" He shouted. "Mrs. Brewer invited me!"

"Ok, but was it out of pity?" Alexis looked up at him, fake pouting. "Because she knew you'd be all alone?" 

"Take a bath with a toaster," David retorted. "Besides, I don't see you going anywhere for Thanksgiving."

Alexis held up her hand to admire her nails. "Um, yeah, that's because I don't really do holidays? And ever since that whole thing with the King of Saudi Arabia, I haven't been big on meeting parents." 

"I wouldn't want to meet you either," David sneered.

Alexis tossed her hair, aloof. "Besides, what if they don't even like you?" 

David picked up his pillow and threw it at her, hitting her right in the face. "People love me!" He shouted.

"Oh my God, David!" She huffed, fixing her hair. "I just got a blow out!" Frustrated, she reached down and grabbed the pillow to throw back at her brother, but stopped short. David was sitting on the edge of his bed, wringing his hands and staring at the faded carpet. She stood and walked to him, handing him the pillow.

"What… what if they don't like me?" He asked quietly as his sister perched next to him. She nudged her shoulder against his.

"You know they will," she told him. "You know they already do." When he didn't respond, she placed her hand over his. "Patrick loves you," she said, "and so will they." He looked up at her tenderly. 

"Thank you," he whispered. She smiled and touched his nose with the tip of her finger. He waved her away.

"They might think you're too old for him though," she teased. 

"Oh my GOD!" David cried, throwing himself onto the bed as Alexis jumped up and pranced away.

David pulled out his phone, staring at the lock screen selfoe he took of himself and Patrick in front of the store. He unlocked and typed out a message.

David:  
_Are you sure it will be okay?_

Patrick:  
_Positive.  
Why, having second thoughts?_

David:  
_No.  
No.  
I just wanted to make sure._

Patrick:  
_It will be great.  
I promise._

David:  
_Thank you._

Patrick:  
_In fact, I think my mom is more excited for you to be there than me._

David grinned, the embers in his chest igniting.

David:  
_Well, no surprise there._

Patrick:  
_I love you._

David:  
_I love you._

He smiled. It was going to be fine. No matter what happened, he would have Patrick, and that's all that mattered.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a slow morning, and Patrick was enjoying the quiet. He was trying to get these renewal applications finished so they would be ready to send it at the end of the month. 

"I'm going for a coffee," David declared, pulling Patrick from his thoughts.

"You've had two already," he reminded his boyfriend, not looking up from his computer. David huffed. He was bored and clearly going crazy.

"Well what are you doing? Maybe I can help."

Patrick chuckled. "I am going over our past few months of sales to fill out a grand renewal." _And you will hate doing this more than staring at scarves all day,_ he finished in his head.

David gave a tight smile and nodded. "Mmhmm. Well. I will let you keep that up." Patrick smiled at the attempt to not seem disinterested. "I am going to…"

The phone broke the silence with a shrill ring "I got it!" David shouted, running towards the register. Patrick switched over to last month's sales speadsheet, David struggling to reach the receiver. Without looking up, Patrick picked up the phone and placed it in David's hand. Patrick loved with their cohesive relationship in the store, always right in line with one another. "Rose Apothecary!" David said, in a voice he thought was more professional. 

"Hello, Mrs. Brewer!" Patrick looked up at David, eyebrows raised. It wasn't unlike mom to call the store every few daysto check in. "I'm guessing you'd like to talk to your son?"

David smiled and handed the phone to Patrick. He loved how much his boyfriend liked taking with his parents. "Hey mom, how's it going?" Patrick asked, David walking around the counter to rub Patrick's arms.

"Hello, darling! Just wanted to let you know that Kelly will be here for Thanksgiving this year!" His mother was the sweetest woman alive.

"That sounds really nice," Patrick said to his mother, leaning back into David. His cousin Kelly had moved to Vancouver a few years ago and hadn't been home to Ontario since.

"It will be," Marcy delighted. "I am assuming you'll be here?"

"We haven't really talked about it, but I'll run it past David." Honestly, Patrick has almost but forgotten about the holiday. He hadn't left Schitt's Creek for home since moving here, and the thought was more daunting than he'd like to admit.

"Oh, please extend our invitation to David, dear! You can come Sunday and stay a few days!" She was so giving.

"Alright, I'll ask him," Patrick beamed. He loved the thought of bringing David home.

"Please do! Tell him it would be our pleasure! Ask him and let me know so I can plan for it."

"Yep, I'll give you a call back later tonight."

"Wonderful, wonderful. I look forward to it! I love you, Sweet boy!"

"Okay, sounds good. I love you, Mom. Bye."

"Bye!" David called as Patrick hung up. "So…?" He asked.

Patrick turned to him, looking up. _God, he's so handsome._ "So that was my Mom," he started, teasing David. His boyfriend shot him an irritated look that made his stomach flip. He loved that, even all these months later, he still got the same feelings as he did the first day they met. Especially when he could push his buttons the way he did. "And she asked," Patrick continues slowly, "if I was coming home for Thanksgiving."

"That's like a month and a half away," David replied, furrowing his dark brows. Patrick smiled.

"Maybe in New York, but here in _Canada,_ it's next week." 

"Oh, shit, yeah," David turned around absent-mindedly, ran his hand over the counter as if to wipe off something that wasn't there. "The Roses were never big on, I'm, holidays that aren't Christmas." He looked over at Patrick. "And that was really more of a statement than a holiday." Patrick smiled sadly, and reached up to hold David's hand. He sometimes forgot how different his David's life had been before Schitt's Creek, how detached and lonely, no matter how many people he was surrounded by. They were all more interested in what they could get from David, instead of David himself. He felt a little ache in his chest, and ran his thumb over the silver rings for comfort.

"Well," Patrick continued, "it's next Monday, and she wants me to drive out Sunday afternoon." 

David withdrew his hands, wringing them together. "So you probably won't be home til Tuesday," he thought aloud, eyes squeezed shut, "So I'll run the store for two days, alone. That should be fine." He opened his eyes and looked at Patrick, nervous and unsure. "That will be fine."

Patrick smiled and stood, putting his hands around David's waist and pulling him close. "Or…"

"Or?"

"Or we could close the store for two days, and you could come with me." Even the proposition gave Patrick a warm feeling in his stomach. He gazed up at David.

"No, no, I'm not going to intrude," David sighed.

"It's not an intrusion," Patrick encouraged, "my mom specifically asked me to invite you. That is, if you _want_ to go."

"Go with you," David processed, "to your childhood home… and meet your parents… for Thanksgiving."

"Yeah, that about sums it up," Patrick agreed. _Did he not want to go? Was this a bad idea?_ Patrick suddenly got nervous.

But David grinned, placing his arms on his boyfriend's shoulders. "That sounds perfect." He kissed Patrick. "Meeting my boyfriend's parents." They pulled together for a hug. 

The pit in Patrick's stomach had started to subside when David kissed him, but after his last statement it bore right back into him. He was going to introduce his parents to David. Not just David, his business partner. But David, his boyfriend.

++++++++++

"Hey, Mom," Patrick said when Marcy answered the phone.

"Hello, Darling! Have you had a chance to talk to David about next week?" She was clearly excited. Patrick smiled.

"Yes, I did," he paused, unexpectedly nervous. He absently picked at the blanket on his bed.

"And?" Marcy provided. 

"Yes!" Patrick cleared his throat. "Yes, he is going to come. With me. We're both coming."

"Oh, wonderful! And you'll be here Sunday?"

"Yes, we'll leave here late morning? Be there in the afternoon."

"Wonderful! I'll make a light dinner, then, and we can catch up and get to know David before the whole family is together Monday."

"Yeah," Patrick agreed in a hoarse voice. The whole family. Somehow he had forgotten that Thanksgiving at home meant Thanksgiving with his family. There were so many Brewers! Patrick had already decided that this was _the_ trip. He was taking David home and introducing his parents to his boyfriend. Was he ready to take that step with his entire extended family?

Luckily Marcy didn't notice his sudden apprehension. "I hope we aren't pulling poor David from his own family this week!"

"Oh, no," he recovered, "I think they do American Thanksgiving." He wasn't about to try to explain the Roses over the phone, he'd let David do that in person. 

"Well this is just wonderful! I'll have to get the guest room ready, and beat the rugs…" she prattled on to herself, making a long list of chores.

"Mom, mom. David doesn't need all that. He isn't expecting the Prime Minister's mansion." He was secretly thrilled how excited she was getting. He wondered if she'd be as excited if she knew that he wasn't just a business partner. The thought make him nauseated. 

"Oh, of course," she laughed him off. "I'm sure dear David will be fine in this old house."

"It'll be fine, Mom. Uh, Mom, I have to go. Ray needs some help. I'll talk to you later?"

"Of course! You have fun with your friends. I love you, Sweet Boy."

"I love you too, Mom. Bye."

He hung up and dropped his phone on the bed. Ray wasn't even home, but Patrick needed to get off the phone. He hadn't been so sure and unsure at the same time since he first met David. He laid back on the bed and thought about it, about the first meeting. The voice-mails. The witty rapport they have had since day one.

His phone buzzed.

David:  
 _Are you sure it will okay?_

Patrick:  
 _Positive.  
Why, having second thoughts?_

David:  
 _No.  
No.  
I just wanted to make sure._

Patrick:  
 _It will be great.  
I promise._

David:  
 _Thank you._

Patrick:  
 _In fact, I think my mom is more excited for you to be there than me._

David:  
 _Well, no surprise there._

Patrick laughed, the pit in his stomach disappearing. 

Patrick:  
 _I love you._

David:  
 _I love you._

He smiled. It was going to be fine. No matter what happened, he would have David, and that's all that mattered.


	3. Chapter 3

David stood next to his bed, packing and unpacking his leather bag. He groaned and growled.

"Oh my _God_ , David!" Alexis moaned from under her blankets. "It's nine in the morning, what are you _doing_?!"

"I am _trying_ ," he heaved, "to pack my bag!"

"You're only going for, like, two nights," she groaned, "how much do you _actually_ need?!"

David spun on his heel. "You know very well everything I need to maintain _this,_ " he indicated, gesturing to his body.

"Oh my God, you're so _needy_ , David!" She sat up to face her brother. "You remember when I went to the Dekmantel festival with the Hemsworths? My luggage was lost and I had to make due with what I was wearing. I made _four_ ensembles with just a mini skirt and a bralette."

"Chris should have left you there," David snapped. 

"You know he tried!" She flopped over into the bed.

David growled in exasperation. He looked over his bed, the hair products, skin products, sweaters… nothing here could be spared. 

+++++++

An hour later, there was a knock on the door. 

"I'm _not_ getting that," Alexis said pointedly.

"But you look so busy!" David mused at his sister, who was propped up in her bed, scrolling through her phone. He went to the door, and all of his stress melted away when he saw Patrick standing there, coffee and pastry bag in hand. 

"Good morning," he murmered into David's lips as they embraced. "I thought you might need this." He handed over the caramel macchiato and bag to David, who tore right in and pulled a bite of scone to his mouth. 

"Thank you, Patrick!" He announced, letting his boyfriend in the door. "I'm so glad _some_ people are helpful!"

"Drink bleach," Alexis replied, and looked up at the guest. "Good morning, Patrick!" She said earnestly.

"Good morning, Alexis. Any big plans for the holiday?"

Alexis let out a laugh and went back to her phone. "Ew, _no_ thank you." Patrick just smiled and nodded his head. No matter how long he knows the Roses, he doesn't think he'll ever truly understand them.

"She'd hate for her bed to forget the shape of her ass," David sneered, turning back to try to zip his bag. 

" _Rude,_ David!" She tossed her hair. "Ted is doing some farming housecalls or something. And besides, it's the Sabbath."

"Um," Patrick interjected, hoping to stifle the bickering, "I think that was yesterday."

"So then I'm a day late," she waved it off.

"Ready?" He turned to David, then looked at the bed. "Is this all coming with us?"

David shrugged, nonchalant. "Yeah, I kept it to a tight two-bag maximum."

"You know we're only there for two- _night_ maximum, right? I mean, I only have one and that's mostly empty."

David set his hands delicately on Patrick's shoulders. "I love you, and you know love your clothes," he picked at the fabric a little, "but you don't need more than 2 button-ups and a bottle of 3-in-1 soap to make you beautiful." Patrick laughed as David gestured to the bed. " _I_ need a team."

"David, I'm not going to argue with you. It's not like we're tight on luggage room."

"Good, because I have one more," David said quickly and quietly, reaching for a third bag on the floor. Patrick shook his head, not bothering to hide a smile, and picked up the bags on the bed. 

"Bye, Alexis," Patrick called over his shoulder as he walked out the door.

"Bye, Pat!" She chimed, knowing how her brother would respond.

"We are _not_ doing Pat," he told her. 

"Warmest regards, Dave!" She waved brightly.

"No! We are _not_ doing Da--"

"David!" Patrick called from the car, interrupting them again. David growled with annoyance and stormed out after him, bag and coffee and hand.

"So tell me again why we're leaving at the crack of dawn?" David asked as Patrick pulled onto the highway. 

"David, it's barely ten o'clock," he laughed as his boyfriend pulled on his white-framed sunglasses. "It's about a five-hour drive, and I'm guessing you'll want to stop for lunch," David hummed in agreement, "so that puts us there around four or so." When he got no response, he glanced at his passenger, who was already asleep. Patrick smiled to himself and turned up the radio just a bit.

++++++++++

"This is so cute!" David squealed when they stopped for lunch at a retro road-side diner. "I feel like I'm on a date in the 50's. You gonna take me out to the point for some necking?"

Patrick laughed. "I don't think there's anywhere to even park around here except a cornfield." They were literally in the middle of nowhere, Ontario.

"We can still get a milkshake to share," David mused, looking at the smell, concise menu.

"I'd make a joke about a poodle skirt, but I'm sure you actually have one somewhere."

"When Alexander McQueen makes you a poodle skirt, you wear a poodle skirt," David said passively, not even looking up. Patrick just sat there, looking over the table at David. His dark eyebrows knitted together in concentration, the forever five-o'clock shadow stubbling his cheeks, the way he bites down on his lips when he's thinking. _I am so in love with this man,_ he thought. _I hope they can see how happy he makes me._

David looked up and met his gaze. He reached across the table and enlaced their fingers. He gave a little squeeze. "So… chocolate?"

Patrick smiled. "Whatever you want." 

After lunch they climbed back into the car, David clutching his stomach.

"Why did you let me eat that much?" He whined.

"Hey, no one asked to to eat my fries," Patrick teased.

"Rude," David said, turning to face the window. He yawned. "I think I need to sleep this food-baby off." Patrick sighed. He should have known that his road-trip would consist mostly of naps.

A few hours later David sat up with a start. "Are we there?" He asked, his voice thick with sleep.

"Not yet," Patrick replied, turning off the exit ramp and onto a dirt road. "Just stopping for gas." 

"Oh good, I can get a snack." David removed his sunglasses and rubbed his face. 

"Not too much," Patrick reminded, "Mom is making dinner." 

David leaned back and sighed. "A Mrs. Brewer home-cooked meal," he said dreamily. Patrick felt a zing of delight at the thought.

They pulled into the gas station and David ran in to grab some snacks while Patrick began filling up. As David walked back out with a bag full of junk food, Patrick was on the phone with his dad.

"We're stopping one last time for gas," he explained, "and then we'll be there in about an hour… Ok, great. See you then. I love you, Dad. Bye." David came up behind Patrick and wrapped his arms around his waist. He planted a kiss on his neck, and Patrick turned to complete the embrace. He held David tight, his stomach in knots. The closer they were, the more real it became. He was so excited for his parents to meet David at last, but the thought of actually coming out to them was nauseating. Did it have to be this hard?

As they pulled back onto the highway, Patrick leaned forward and turned down the radio. Neither of them had been listening to it anyway. He reached over and grabbed David's hand, holding it over the center console.

"We're almost there!" David said, in almost a squeal. Patrick grinned and squeezed his hand. Then his smile faded.

"David, I need to talk to you about something." David turned to look at him inquisitive. "I, uh… you… ah, I think…"

"Patrick," David said gently, placing his other hand over his.

Patrick sighed. "I haven't told my parents," he said at last. He glanced at David who was staring straight ahead. "About us." 

David nodded his head. After a pause, he opened his mouth. "So they think I'm _just_ your business partner."

"Yes."

David let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Okay," he whispered. He cleared his throat and started over. "Okay. Then I am just your business partner." He squeezed Patrick's hand, still looking straight out the window. 

"David, no," Patrick said. "No. I'm going to tell them. _Tonight_. I wanted to wait to tell them in person."

"You don't need to do that," David offered. 

"I… I owe it to us to tell them," Patrick sighed. "I want them to know." He looked over at David, who turned to meet his gaze. His face was a mask, but Patrick could see in his eyes how hurt he was. His eyes began to sting. He looked back at the road, gripping the steering wheel tightly and cleared his throat. "David, I know my parents are good people," he began, his voice cracking. "I just can't shake this fear that there's a small chance that this could change everything. That they'll see me differently or treat me differently." He let go of David's hand to wipe a tear that was fighting to run down his cheek.

"No, no, no." David grabbed Patrick's hand back and pulled it into his lap. He ran his other hand up and down Patrick's arm, stopping for a squeeze here and there. "What you're dealing with is very personal," he explained. "It's something you should only do on your terms." His voice was thick with emotion, buy kind and comforting. "That's why I brought this couple home one day in college and just told my parents to deal with it."

Patrick laughed. He cleared his throat, squeezed David's hand and let go, wiping his eyes again. "Thank you," he whispered.

David shook his head. "For what?"

"For being you," Patrick explained. "For being kind and understanding. For being strong and loving." He squeezed David's knee. "I love you."

David picked up Patrick's hand and kissed it. "And I love you, Patrick Brewer."


	4. Chapter 4

They pulled up to a small ranch-style house, and Patrick cut the engine. David took off his sunglasses and looked up at the blue house ( _Brewers and their blue_ , he thought), with the faded wooden 'B' hanging on the garage, just over a rusty basketball hoop. He could just imagine little Patrick running around out here, throwing a ball around or playing with friends. "I love it," he whispered.

They got out of the car and unloaded the bags, Patrick taking the largest of David's as well as his own. He lead them up the little stone walk to the front door. "You ready?" He asked over his shoulder.

"More than you know," David replied, nudging him with the overloaded bag in his hand. Patrick took a deep breath, and opened the door. 

"Mom, Dad!" He called out, "We're here!" He gently set the bag down and stepped aside for David to do the same. He heard footsteps rushing as his mom stepped around the corner from the kitchen.

"Patrick!" She shouted, running up to him with open arms. "Oh, my Sweet Boy!" 

"Hey, Mom," Patrick embraced his mother; it really had been too long since he'd seen them. She stepped back and looked up at David, who was standing awkwardly in the doorway. "David, dear!" She said, pulling him into a hug. 

"Hi, Mrs. Brewer!" David closed his eyes and held her tight, not sure when the last time he had such a maternal hug. Patrick's heart was flying, watching his mother accept David so easily in her home. He desperately hoped that nothing about this would change. 

When she finally released David, she hugged Patrick once more. "Take off your shoes, boys, and Patrick can give the grand tour." She grinned, and turned back towards the kitchen. "I've got some cookies for when you've put away your bags." She called over her shoulder. David's eyes grew.

"Shoes first," Patrick said, not bothering to hide his happiness, " _then_ cookies." 

"This might take a minute," David muttered, bending down to untie his laces.

Patrick lead them down a hallway to their left. "Bathroom's here," he pointed, "guest room is right across. Parent's down at the end, and _this,_ " he paused, turning back to David, "is my room." David grinned as Patrick turned back to the Hamilton Cardinals sign on the door, and turned the handle. 

Patrick stepped aside to let David walk in first. David walked to the middle of the room and did a slow spin, taking in everything. Shelves on the walls lined with sports trophies and medals. A tidy Queen bed wrapped in a blue duvet. A wooden dresser with knobs shaped to look like sports balls, the top covered in framed pictures of young Patrick. A small desk in the corner, stacked with textbooks from University.

"Patrick Brewer," David said, "This is the most magnificent thing I've ever seen." He turned to look at Patrick, who was sheepishly standing by the door. "This room is _so_ Patrick." He pointed at the posters of baseball players on the walls. "And you didn't know?" He teased. 

Patrick rolled his eyes and walked up to David, placing his hands on his hips. "I guess I only have eyes for you," he said quietly. He desperately wanted to kiss him, but he couldn't. Not just yet.

David sensed Patrick's apprehension, and patted him on the shoulders. "Let's get some cookies," he offered. Patrick was grateful for his understanding. He lead them back down the hallway and across the house to where his mom was working in the kitchen.

"You boys getting settled?" Marcy asked, moving chocolate chip cookies from the pan to a plate. Patrick leaned over and grabbed two, handing one to David.

"Oh yes," David said, pulling the cookie apart. "You have a beautiful home." He took a bite. "And you're an amazing baker!" He declared with a mouthful. Patrick laughed.

"Well thank you, David," Marcy smiled. "I'm sure this little old house is nothing compared to all the fancy palaces you've seen."

"Mom," Patrick started, but David waved him off.

"This is one of the most welcoming placed I've been in a very long time," he told her earnestly. "And it's Brad and Angie's Gstaad château compared to the motel." 

Patrick rolled his eyes. Name-dropping was so second-nature to the Roses that it wasn't even pretentious or impolite, like he was talking about Twyla, or the Schitts. But Marcy was eating it up. 

"So kind of you, David!" She beamed. David loved the way she said his name. "Don't tell me you're still living at that motel with your family?"

"Mom," Patrick warned.

"Well, yeah," David continued, trying not to be impolite. "For now. It's actually not so bad." He straightened out his sweater. "Where's Mr. Brewer?" He asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah, where's Dad?"

"He went to the range to hit a few balls with Ed," Marcy went to the fridge and pulled out a pitcher of milk. "He should be home soon. Milk, dear?"

"Oh, yes please!" David agreed, picking up another cookie. He had no idea what she meant by being a ball ranger, but it didn't matter-- these cookies were amazing. Patrick smiled and patted David on the shoulder.

"I'm gonna go freshen up," he told the two, who didn't seem to notice him leave. He walked back towards his room and pulled off his sweater. He opened a drawer and found a "Team Brewer" T-shirt from a family reunion a few years ago and pulled it over his head. He walked down the the bathroom and threw some water on his face. When he came back into the kitchen, he found David and his mom sitting at the table, deep in conversation.

"Your night routine already sounds great," David was telling her, "so I would just add an under-eye cream, but you really don't look like you need it." 

Marcy laughed and patted David's hand. "I think I'll keep you around!" She looked up at Patrick. "David here was just telling me about some of the new products you two are carrying," she explained. She turned back to David. "All he ever tells us about the store is business and numbers."

"I have the same problem!" David laughed, and stood. "I think I'll freshen up a bit, too," he announced, walking towards the hall. 

"Oh, Pat, I really like him," Marcy smiled sweetly. "I think he is the perfect person for you to have gone into business with. You two compliment each other."

"Thanks, Mom," Patrick said quietly, "that means a lot." 

The front door opened, and Marcy jumped up. "Clint!" She called as she made her way to the front, "The boys are here!" Patrick followed her around the corner and walked to his father.

"I see that," Clint laughed, pulling Patrick into an deep hug. "Welcome home, son."

"Hey, Dad," Patrick sighed. He had really missed his parents. 

"Where's David?" Clink asked when they parted.

"Just freshening up," Marcy replied, making her way back to the kitchen. "Something you should do, Clint. Dinner will be ready in ten!" His dad laughed, clapped Patrick on the shoulder and moved back towards his bedroom. 

Patrick waited a moment before following, going to check on David. The door to his room wasn't latched, and Patrick pressed it open a little, peeking in. David was wearing a different sweater and his hair was fixed, but he had his back to the door. Patrick watched quietly as David made his way around his childhood room, looking at everything more closely. Little League participation trophies, 2nd place medals, team photos. David paused at each one, running his fingers over engraved words, looking closely at pictures of young Patrick. 

Patrick wished he could have watched David all day, but he knew his dad would be walking by again any moment. He cleared his throat and pushed the door open wider. "Enjoying the museum of Patrick?" He asked.

"Better than the Guggenheim," David replied, inspecting some photos on the dresser. "Well this is a nice one," he teased. 

Patrick walked up, and started. It was a picture from senior prom, young Patrick in a too-big suit, arms around a young Rachel. "I'll just…" he muttered pulling it from David's hands. He opened the bottom drawer and dropped in the frame.

"Aww, I _like_ awkward teenage Patrick," David mused, running a hand up and down Patrick's spine. Patrick leaned into David, closing his eyes.

"Pat!" Marcy called from the kitchen. "Can you come set the table, dear?" Patrick sighed.

"Better go set the table, dear," David whispered through the smile. He swatted Patrick on the butt while he walked away. 

When he was once again alone in the room, David walked over to the bed, where his largest bag was tightly zipped. He opened it and started rummaging, producing a bottle of red wine and a small gift bag of products from the store. _Never arrive empty-handed,_ he thought, probably the only piece of advice Moira ever gave him that he used consistently. He glanced in the mirror and fixed his hair once more. Content, he began to step out into the hall just as Clint opened his door.

"David!" Clint declared, startling him.

"Um, yes!" Clint pulled him into a hug. "Hi, Mr. Brewer." This family loved to hug. When they pulled apart, David held the bottle in front of him. "A gift!"

"Look at this," Clint said, taking the bottle and looking at the label.

"It's the best that we sell at the store," David provided. Clint looked up and grinned.

"Wonderful." He lead David down the hall towards the kitchen. "Marcy, look what David brought us!" David gingerly offered the gift bag to her.

"David, dear! So thoughtful!" She reached out and touched his arm.

" _Very_ thoughtful," Patrick mused from behind his mother.

"This will be lovely with dinner!" Marcy insisted, pulling a corkscrew from a drawer and handed it to Clint. "Will you do the honor?" She turned to a cabinet and withdrew two wine glasses, passing them to David. He walked them to the table and returned for two more. Clint walked over and poured into the glasses as Marcy brought a large salad bowl to the table. 

"Boys, sit!" She motioned to the other side of the table. David and Patrick sat next to each other, Marcy and Clint across from them.

"Mrs. Brewer, this salad looks amazing," David boasted.

"Oh stop it, David dear," Marcy blushed. "You are just too much."

They all began to eat and chat, Marcy and Clint asking about the store. Patrick talked about the recent community events they were hosting and planning, while David explained the local products they sold, and the relationship with the vendors. The conversation moved on to more about the town in general, Ray's multiple business ventures and Johnny and Stevie's upgrade of the motel. David even spoke with pride about Alexis' projects, and the success of Singles Week.

"Speaking of singles, I forgot to tell you!" Marcy started as Patrick took a sip of water. "I ran into Rachel!" 

Patrick immediately began coughing and sputtering, choking on his water. "No kidding," he rasped.

"Yes. She said she went to see you a few months back," his mother continued. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Patrick glanced at David, who looked back at him with eyebrows raised. _He is really playing the part,_ he thought. "Well, it wasn't really a big deal," he said with a shrug.

"I'm just glad you two had a chance to talk," Clint added. "She really is a sweet girl."

"Um, yeah," was all that Patrick managed to get out.

"She said she is seeing someone," Marcy continued, "but I don't remember who." 

"Someone from the team, I think," Clint said.

"Did you two partake in any of the Singles Week activities?" Marcy asked. 

"Uh, no, not really," Patrick said, strained. 

"The store was so busy," David filled in, without hesitation, "And Alexis had us running errands all week."

"I see," Marcy started, setting down her fork. "Pat, dear. Are you seeing anyone these days?"

This was it. This was the moment. He tried to swallow but his mouth was dry and there was a lump in his throat. He glanced at David, and his wonderful, loving, supportive, understanding eyes.

"Actually, yes," he said. "I am."

"Wonderful!" Clint cheered.

"Oh, oh!" Marcy looked like she was about to burst. "Tell me all about her!"

"Well," Patrick started, the aching feeling in his stomach growing. "Actually, um…" he looked back at David, who gave the smallest nod. _I'm here,_ he seemed to say. He looked back at his parents. "David is… not only my business partner," he told them. "He's my boyfriend." He placed his hand on David's, giving it a nervous squeeze. He kept his gaze on him. "And I've never been happier," he said, not only to his parents but to David. "In my life." He looked back across the table. "And so I just… hope you guys can accept that." 

Patrick looked at his mother, then at his father. Neither said anything, they just stared at Patrick. He felt heat behind his eyes, and looked down at his lap. David held Patrick's hand with both of his and gave a supportive squeeze.

Suddenly Marcy stood up.

"Mom?" Patrick asked, slightly panicking. She took a few steps to round the corner of the table and threw her arms around her son's shoulders. 

"You are the only thing in the world that matters to us," she said softly. Suddenly Patrick couldn't hold it in. All of his fear and apprehension and worst-case scenarios released and he began to cry. 

"Thank you, Mom," he whispered. David wiped away his own tears as Marcy moved over to wrap her arm around him, too. "Dad?" Clint's stone face broke into a grin. 

"I am so happy for you, son," he said, tears stinging his own eyes. David let out a sob he didn't know he was holding in. He reached over and squeezed Patrick's leg. 

Marcy stood and wiped her eyes, then turned to her son. She placed a hand on either side of his face and looked him in the eye. "I love you so much, my Sweet Boy." She kissed him on the forehead. Then she stepped up to David, holding his face in her hands. "I couldn't be happier that it's you," she told him, kissing his forehead the same way.

David's heart swelled. He had basically jumped out of the closet and forced Johnny and Moira to deal with it, never giving it another thought. They reacted the way you'd expect, with a lot of awkward advice and long-winded declarations. But it was never like this. Never tender and sweet. He was never embraced and celebrated the way he was right in this moment. He felt a relief he didn't know he needed. He looked over at Patrick, who looked like a child on Christmas. He'd never seen him smile so big. He reached over and touched his shoulder. When Patrick looked at him, he pulled David into a hug.

"I'm so proud of you," David whispered in his ear. "I love you."

Patrick pulled back and looked David in the eye. "Thank you, David," he said softly. "I love you."

"Oh!" Marcy exclaimed, jumping up towards the fridge. "This is the perfect time for cake!"


	5. Chapter 5

"So what are you boys doing tonight?" Clint asked, helping Patrick cleared the table. 

"Uh, I don't know," he said. "There's nothing planned. Are you guys doing anything?"

"I've got the game from this afternoon DVR'd," his dad replied.

"And I've got my book. Just staying in like a couple of old people!" Marcy joked, moving the leftovers to a small container. She looked up at David, elbow deep in a sink of soapy dishes. "Why don't you two go out?" She offered, giving him a hip-bump.

"Take David out for a night on the town!" Clint said to Patrick with a wink. _Oh, God._ An hour ago, he was worried that his parents wouldn't accept his relationship, but now it seemed they were a little _too_ accepting. His dad opened the fridge and pulled out a beer, offering it to Patrick, who shook his head. He shrugged, smiled, and walked the beer to the TV room.

"Yeah, okay," Patrick replied. He put his hand on David's shoulder. "I can take you to that bar I used to go to when I was home from school." David smiled in response. He was trying _very_ hard to impress the Brewers and be a polite houseguest, but the thought of his fingers touching-- _ugh!_ \--wet food in the sink was enough to make him gag. He took a deep breath as he lifted a (thankfully) clean plate from the water and handed it to Patrick to dry. Patrick could tell by the strained smile and plead in his eyes that David was _not_ enjoying this bit of domestic bliss. "Why don't I take over here," he offered, "and you can go watch the game with Dad?" 

David pondered for a moment. "I'm not sure I'm a 'game' kind of guy," he replied.

"You're right," Patrick agreed, "you're much more of a 'soggy hands in a dirty sink' kind of guy." David whipped his hands up and out of the water, snatching the towel from Patrick's hands.

"On second thought," he mused, wiping his hands and dropping the towel on the counter, "it's never too late to learn the rules of… 'the game.'" He kissed Patrick on the cheek and sashayed after Clint. Patrick stood for a moment, watching his boyfriend leave the room.

"You know," Marcy said, handing Patrick a wet plate. He picked up the towel and dried it off. "Your eyes light up when you look at him." She stopped and smiled at her son. "I've never seen your eyes so alive." 

"He makes me so happy, Mom," Patrick whispered. 

She pulled him into a hug, wrapping her wet hands around his back. "I love you so much, my Sweet Boy," she said into his chest. She pulled back. "I'm so very happy that you brought him here." 

"Me too, Mom," he replied, wiping his stinging eyes. _How many times am I going to cry today?_ he thought. 

She waited another beat, then pushed her son away. "Go!" She instructed. "Go out and have fun! I can finish up here."

"Okay, okay," Patrick laughed, handing her the dish towel he was still clutching. He went to his room and changed out of his t-shirt, pulling a black sweater over his head. He ran his fingers over his short cropped hair, and sprayed himself with a bit of cologne. Then he quietly walked around to look in on the TV room. 

Clint was sitting in his easy chair, sipping a beer, while David was delicately perched on the couch, his chin resting on his hands. "So which one is the feed?" He asked.

Clint looked over curiously at David. "I'm not sure that position exists in football," he said kindly, "but that one running with the ball is the quarterback."

"Ah, yes," David replied softly. "The quarter back."

Patrick stepped up behind the couch and placed his hands on David's shoulders. "Ready to go?" 

"Absolutely not," David said with wide eyes. "I don't even know that aesthetic of this establishment, how can I dress accordingly?"

Patrick chuckled. "It's just a bar, David. No aesthetic." 

David stood. "There is _always_ an aesthetic," he declared. "I'll guess I'll just have _figure_ it out." He gestured to himself. He walked past Patrick, giving his arm a squeeze. Patrick laughed again and took his place on the couch.

Clint muted the TV while the referees conversed. He cleared his throat. "I, uh," he started, turning towards the couch. "I really like him."

Patrick smiled broadly and looked down at his hands. "Yeah," he replied, "Yeah, me too."

"I don't quite understand his clothes," Clint continued, and Patrick laughed out loud.

"Oh no," he warned, "but you will in time." _In time,_ he thought again. He hoped to be with David until the end of time. _For as long as he'll have me._ He felt his smile grow. Clint glanced over at his son, and relished the moment of genuine happiness. He took another sip of beer and turned the volume back on. 

David walked back into the room. "Ready?" He asked, and Patrick stood. David was standing, feigning nonchalance, in a different sweater (oversized, grey with black stripes of different widths), black pants legs pulled to the knees, and an asymmetrical skirt. Patrick walked up to him and wrapped his arms around David's waist.

"You look perfect," he muttered, leaning in for a kiss. A real kiss. 

"I know," David teased when they parted. He took Patrick's hand and pulled him to the front door. Patrick slipped his shoes on, while David looked around uncomfortably. "So the _only_ reason why I am going to do this," he explained, lowering himself to the floor and picking up his shoe, "is because your mother keeps a very tidy house." 

++++++++

"Oh, so _this_ is where you're going to murder me," David murmured, looking out into the dark countryside. Patrick smirked.

"I was gonna wait til we were back at that old diner," he explained.

"Yeah, probably be a good idea. You have too many connections around here."

"It's always the partner," Patrick joked. "This place is actually less sketchy than The Wobbly Elm, if you can believe it." David side-eyed him. "Maybe only by a little," Patrick laughed.

They pulled in to a small building, sided with dark wood, with a neon sign reading 'The Roost.' David looked the building up and down after stepping out. "I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt," he told his boyfriend.

"I appreciate that," Patrick replied. They walked inside tomorrow, and found it more crowded than a typical Sunday night. _Everyone must be in town for the holiday,_ he thought, looking for a table. "There in the back," he pointed to a booth on the far wall. "I'll grab us some beers," he instructed, "why don't you sit?"

"I'll drop off my bag and hit the _little boy's room_ ," David replied. "I'd tell you to keep an eye on it, but," he looked around the bar, "no one here is going to see it's value."

Patrick leaned against the bar, flagging down the busy bartender. "Two of whatever's on tap," he ordered. He picked up the pint glasses and turned towards the booth.

"Brewer!" someone shouted, and he almost spilled the drinks. He looked up.

"Miller!" He said, setting down the beers to embrace his friend.

"Damn, man, how long has it been?" Miller asked, looking a little glassy-eyed. _He's been here for a bit,_ Patrick thought.

"A while," he replied.

"I heard you were out of town! Uh... uh... Shit River!" he laughed at himself. "No, no..."

"Schitt's Creek," Patrick supplied, and the drunk man's eyes lit up.

"Yes! Shit Creek!" He laughed again. "What the hell are you doing out there?"

"Actually, I'm running a store." Patrick didn't know why he was bothering to explain, Miller was clearly inebriated and probably wouldn't remember this conversation in the morning.

"Oooh, a _store_ ," he teased.

Patrick picked up the drinks. "Good to see you, Miller," he said, walking away.

"Brewer, wait up!" he followed him across the bar to the booth. Patrick set down the glasses on the table and sat next to David's bag, Miller sliding in to the booth across from him. "You got _me_ a drink?" he asked.

"Actually, no," Patrick corrected, "I'm here with someone." _So please leave._

"No way! Brewer's back out in the field!" he leaned out of the booth and craned his neck, looking around the room. "Who is it?"

"Me," David announced, sliding into the booth next to Patrick. Miller looked over, wide-eyed. "David Rose," he extended his hand, rings shining in the dim bar lights.

"Eric Miller," the friend said tentatively, reaching across the table to shake his hand. He eyed Patrick, who looked at Eric straight-faced. "Is this a joke?" he asked.

"Not at all," Patrick replied, putting his arm around David's shoulder. "Miller, this is David. My boyfriend."

"And _that_ ," David added, reaching across the table for the pint glass, "is my beer." He took a sip and wiped the foam from his lip. 

"Miller was our shortstop in high school," Patrick explained. "We've played together since Little League."

"Mmm," David hummed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Go team."

"I, uh… I gotta go," Eric muttered, climbing from booth.

"Probably best," David responded, inspecting his cuticles. After a moment he turned to Patrick. "So who was _that_ shining example of Canadian hospitality?"

"Just some meat-head from high school," Patrick shrugged, repositioning to that David could lean back into him. "He was always kind of a jerk, but I've known him since we were kids."

"Sounds like a dream," David cooed sarcastically.

"Most of the guys are cool," Patrick defended. 

"Just not Miller," David finished.

"Just not Miller." Patrick took a long drink from his beer.

David snuggled in closer. "So…" he started coyly, "So now that you've told your parents, you're just 'full steam ahead' out of that closet, huh?" 

Patrick chuckled, tightening his arm around David. "They are the only ones whose opinion I actually care about," he said, planting a kiss on his temple. "After that, I say… fuck the rest. I just wanted to show you off."

"Well, I for one _love_ being shown off," David delighted. 

"Then let's show you off," Patrick whispered, nudging David to sit up. A slow song was playing on the Apple jukebox, and a few couples were standing nearby, swaying to the beat. "Let's dance."

David tried to hide his excitement as Patrick took his hand, leading him to the middle of the makeshift dance floor. He placed his hands on Patrick's shoulders, whose hands held David's waist tight. They rocked to the song, lost in each other's arms.

"I don't know if I could have done that today without you," Patrick said, looking into David's eyes.

"I don't think that's true," David replied. "You are too much of a 'take-charge' guy," he teased. "You would have found a way."

"David," Patrick's voice was getting weak, "I was so terrified of what could have happened." He swallowed, and David pulled him into a hug, tight and secure. "I just kept thinking about everything that could have gone wrong."

"You parents love you," he said softly, "so much. There is no way that would have gone any differently."

Patrick pulled back, and looked up at his boyfriend. His beautiful, loving, (mostly) selfless boyfriend. "Thank you, David." he said, and kissed him. They stood together, tightly embraced, as the song ended and everyone else dispersed.

The walked back to the booth and settled in together like before. "So tell me," David said thoughtfully, taking a drink of his beer. "What am I to expect at this Brewer Thanksgiving Extravaganza?"

Patrick laughed. "Well, let's see," he thought. "We're going to Nana Brewer's house--it's the only one big enough to house us all. My dad's brothers will be there, with their kids, my cousins."

" _That_ ," David interjected, "sounds like a lot." Patrick hugged his arm a little tighter around his boyfriend.

"It'll be great," he continued. "We'll eat, play some games, eat some more, sit around and drink..."

"I think I can manage all that," David smiled, leaning up to kiss Patrick's cheek. "I'm good at games."

"So what did you guy's do for Thanksgiving?" he asked. "You know, before."

"I've told you about my Parade Parties at the gallery," David said offhandedly.

"Well yeah, but did your parents come to that? Or Alexis?" David scoffed.

"Alexis hadn't spent a Thanksgiving _not_ on a yacht since we were teens," he said, in such a passive way that always baffled Patrick. "My parents were usually vacationing somewhere, or my mom was performing in some U.S.O. show in the Middle East."

"When was the last time you spent Thanksgiving together? As a family?"

David paused, trying to think. "Probably before Bubbe Rose died," he finally said. "So I was twelve? I'm not sure." He waved his hands. "I told you we're not holiday people. Except for--"

"Except for the Christmas party, yeah," Patrick finished. "I can't imagine not spending holidays together." He said, picking up his glass. He realized he'd finished his beer while David was talking. "Need another?" he asked, gesturing to David's half-empty glass. David picked it up and quickly drank it down.

"Yes _please_!" He said, moving out of the booth to let Patrick out. "Surprise me." He slid back in to Patrick's spot, smiling to himself.

"An iced tea for me," Patrick said when he returned with two new drinks, "And a Long Island for you."

"The only think worth my time from Long Island," David told him, taking a big drink, "is the iced tea."

Patrick nodded. "Good to know."

They sat for a while, sipping drinks, talking, and people-watching. Every so often someone would walk by and wave at Patrick, or say 'Hi' in passing. He was feeling kind of proud, having people from his old life see him with David, cuddle up close and clearly in love. I almost wanted to stop and tell everyone he saw how happy he was, but he knew that was ridiculous. Mostly.

"Aren't _you_ Mr. Popular," David teased after the fifth or sixth person nodded at them in recognition.

"I told you, this was the bar I'd always come to," Patrick said into his drink, finishing his iced tea. "This was my 'Cheers.'"

"I don't know the show, but Ted Danson proposed to Mary Steenburgen at my Bar Mitzvah." He handed his empty glass to Patrick. "Let's go home," he said flirtatiously. "I want to know how it feels to be snuggled up in Teenage Patrick's bed."

" _That,_ " Patrick said with a kiss, "is the best idea I've ever heard."


	6. Chapter 6

Patrick woke up early, as he often did. He rolled over and paused a moment to watch David sleep, as he often did. But this time, David was sleeping in his bed. _His_ bed, the bed that he would lay on and try to push strange feelings from his mind. His bed where he once sat with Rachel, awkwardly attempting to make out, desperately trying to figure out how to make the kiss 'feel right.' _This_ felt right. Waking up next the most beautiful man he'd ever seen, feeling his strong arm wrapped around his waist, it all felt too good to be true. He leaned over and kissed David's stubbled cheek.

"I'm getting up," Patrick murmured in his ear, "You sleep for as long as you want."

"Always do," David sighed, rolling over and tucking himself under the duvet. Patrick climbed out of bed and pulled on the t-shirt he discarded last night. He was already wearing pajama pants, despite David's protests, to be at least a _little_ respectful of his parent's home. He walked out into the kitchen, where he was unsurprised to see his parents sitting at the table, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper.

"Mornin'," he said, pulling out a mug and pouring himself a cup.

"Good morning, Sweet Boy," his mother said, smiling over her section of the paper.

"Morning, son." His dad didn't look up.

Patrick always loved his parents' morning routines: breakfast first, then sipping coffee while sharing the newspaper. Clint always read the local news and sports section, while Marcy preferred the world news, entertainment and classifieds. They even shared the puzzles, too, with Clint taking on the crossword before handing Marcy the Sudoku. Their relationship was so synchronized and symbiotic, perfected over the years. It was a milestone he wished to someday achieve.

"Is David up?" Marcy asked, absentmindedly stirring her coffee.

"No. He's not really a morning person." He smiled to himself, remembering the conversation in his car after their first kiss.

"Well whenever he gets up, I'll make you boys some pancakes," she told him.

"I think you're going to be his new favorite person."

Patrick sat quietly at the table, drinking his coffee and reading the paper as his parents finished. It felt good to be back home, back in their little routine, but he found that it wasn't as fulfilling anymore. It was missing something. It was missing some _one_. 

After his cup was empty, he took it to the sink and rinsed it out. He snuck back into his room to retrieve the book he'd left in his bag, and felt a thrill seeing David sleeping in his bed. _This is a view I could get used to,_ he thought. He tried to be as silent as possible, but he knew that a marching band would have trouble dragging David Rose from bed.

He sat on the couch, on the side that was always 'his spot,' and opened his book. His dad put on an old war movie, working on the crossword puzzle during commercial breaks. His mom worked in the kitchen, making some casserole for the big dinner later. After some time, Patrick decided to get up and take a shower. He didn't even bother bringing toiletries because he knew his mom always kept the bathroom stocked for him. He wrapped himself in a towel and carried his clothes back across the hall to his room.

"I know what _I'm_ thankful for," David said in a sleepy voice. Patrick turned around, wearing only his underwear. He smiled and walked towards the bed, climbing under the covers and snuggling up to his boyfriend. "And now I'm even _more_ thankful," he added with a kiss. "What time is it?"

"Almost nine," Patrick replied between kisses.

"Ew," was David's only response.

"My mom is making pancakes."

"And I'm up!"

Patrick laughed and climbed out of bed. "Take a shower, do your face routine, and they'll be ready when you're done," he instructed, pulling on his jeans. David grabbed his bag, swatted Patrick on the butt, and headed towards the door.

"I'd like four please!" he announced before leaving the room. When he emerged from the bathroom some time later, washed and coiffed and moisturized, there was a steaming stack of pancakes waiting for him on the table. "Mrs. Brewer, you are an _angel_!"

"Oh, David, call me Marcy!" He stepped up to her and pulled her into a hug.

"Thank you, Marcy."

"You're welcome dear," she replied as David sat down next to Patrick, "I always used to make pancakes for the all boys' sleepovers." Patrick coughed on his orange juice.

" _All_ the sleepovers?" David asked with a wicked grin.

"Just guys from the team, usually!" Patrick insisted. "Mom, it was _never_ like that." His face grew hot.

"Oh honey, I know!" Marcy laughed. "You were just a kid. Besides, you never looked at any of them like you look at David." Patrick's face stayed red, even after David started playfully rubbing his back.

+++++

A few hours later, the four of them pulled up to the biggest house David had seen since moving to Schitt's Creek. It was a sprawling single-story ranch, with high ceilings and two large wings spreading on either side of the extra-wide driveway. Multiple sensible SUVs were parked already, with a few kids running around in the front yard.

"My Papa Brewer built this house when I was a kid," Patrick explained, noticing David's awe. "He wanted a place to put all of the grandkids he knew he'd have."

"There's five grandkids," Marcy continued, "and about eight great-grandkids so far."

"That is a _lot_ of Brewers," David breathed. Patrick squeezed his knee.

"It'll be fine," he said, "just think of it like one of your gallery openings."

"Then in _that_ case we would need more paparazzi and fewer t-shirts." They got out of the car and headed in, Patrick carrying the casserole dish for his mom. When they got to the front step, two boys stopped wrestling to look at the visitors.

"Hi Uncle Clint! Hi Aunt Marcy!" the one with dirty knees called.

"Patrick!" another shouted, running full-force at them. David quickly side-stepped out of the way.

"Don't knock over the food!" Patrick playfully shouted back, shifting the dish to one hand to pretend to pull the boy into a headlock.

"Boys, leave Patrick alone!" A heavily pregnant woman said, opening the front door. "Let him get inside first." She turned to the newest arrivals. "Hi Uncle Clint, Aunt Marcy," she greeted with a hug. "Patrick! Wonderful to see you!" He gave her a one-armed hug.

"This is my cousin Jesse's wife, Sarah," Patrick introduced, "Sarah, this is my boyfriend David."

"Welcome!" she said, throwing her arms around David. He wasn't sure he'd ever been this close to a pregnant person before. "Come in and say hi to everyone." She held the door as they paraded in.

Once inside, David felt suddenly at-home and overwhelmed. The house was impeccably decorated, with beautiful colors and tasteful curtains, shining hardwood floors and high cathedral ceilings. It was also full of people. A _lot_ of people. And they were _loud_. From the front door you could see right into a sitting room, a large kitchen, a formal dining room and a den, and every room had people in it. Luckily everyone was involved in their own conversations and activities, babies crawling in the den, people fussing in the kitchen, a few older adults on the couches in the sitting room. No one looked up when they entered the door, and for that David was thankful. He wasn't sure Patrick's plan for introducing him to so many people, but it had been a long time since he was in a crowd of this size and _he_ was the unknown person. 

Patrick nudged David. "Let's put this down in the kitchen," he said softly, and David nodded. Patrick walked in, setting the casserole on the island next to other, similar dishes. "Marcy's famous cornbread stuffing," he announced. 

"Hi, Patrick," the man said, wiping his hands on his apron and offering one for a handshake.

"So great to see you, Pat!" one woman said with a hug. The other woman lifted the lid of the dish to take a look. 

"Smells great as always," she declared.

"Hey, guys," Patrick said, then turned to David. "I'd like you all to meet David. He is my business partner at the store." He cleared his throat. "And my boyfriend." Patrick loved to say it as much as David loved to hear it.

"Well hi there, David!" The man said with a strong handshake. "I'm Clint's _much_ younger brother Mark."

"He wishes he were much younger," said the woman smelling the dish. "I'm Pam, Mark's _much_ younger wife," she teased.

"And I'm the infamous Aunt Liza," the third woman said with a warm hug.

"She's married to my Uncle Dan," Patrick supplied.

"Hello," David said quietly. He wasn't used to all of these hugs, and wasn't sure how he felt about all of this instant support and acceptance. This was good, right? As always, he was waiting for the other foot to drop. So far, with the exception of the whole Rachel debacle, nothing about Patrick had been too good to be true-- everything good had been true.

Patrick grabbed David's hand, lacing their fingers together. "We're gonna go say hi to Nana," he told his aunts and uncle.

"She's in with the babies!" Aunt Liza told them, like it was an obvious answer.

When they entered the room, David stopped in his tracks. Two small humans were on the _floor,_ climbing and crawling and _drooling_ like a couple of naked pink animals. An older girl, a cousin probably, sat on the floor with them, passing a plastic toy back and forth with one of them. "Hey, Kristen," Patrick said as he skirted around them, heading for the elderly woman in the easy chair.

"Hey," the preteen muttered back, not looking up. 

"Is that my Pat?!" The old woman exclaimed, lifting herself from her chair. She was much smaller standing up than David would have guessed, only coming up to Patrick's chest as they embraced.

"Hi, Nana. Sorry it's been so long."

She pulled back and looked up at him. "It's only too long if it's forever," she told him. He turned back and offered his hand to David, who precariously stepped around the toddlers and took it.

"Nana, I want to introduce you to someone very special to me." He squeezed David's hand. "Nana, this is David Rose. My boyfriend."

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Brewer," he said, releasing Patrick's hand to extend to her. She clasped it with both of her delicate hands.

"Call me Nana," she told him, kissing his hand. She looked back at her grandson. "I was afraid you were going to bring home another girl," she told him. "There are too many girls around here. We need more boys." She winked at him and threw her arms around David. He leaned down into the embrace and looked over her head at Patrick, giving him an excited smile. With every person he introduced to David, he felt lighter and happier. He was tempted to take David person-to-person, just to be able to say 'my boyfriend' as many times as possible. He would never get tired of saying it. Patrick reached over and squeezed his shoulder. "Sit, sit," she ordered, releasing David and gesturing to the couch next to her. "Tell me all about this store if yours."

They sat and talked with Nana Brewer for a while, taking turns describing their store, their town, their friends. David was so comfortable and involved in the conversation that he didn't notice the tug at his pant leg. He didn't notice anything until a tiny, slobbery hand planted itself on his knee as the baby pulled itself up to a stand. He looked down and instantly pushed himself back into the couch. 

"Ew, Patrick," he said in a hoarse whisper, "Patrick it's climbing on me." Patrick looked over and laughed. He leaned down and picked up the baby under the arms

"I think she likes you, David," he said, bringing her into his lap. He cooed, and his voice went up a few octaves "Don't you?" David's eyebrows shot up.

"What was _that_?!" He exasperated. Patrick laughed again.

"It's baby talk, David. Haven't you heard anyone talk to a baby?"

" _Not_ if I can help it!" Patrick grinned, and held the baby out towards him.

"David," he said in a high voice, pretending to speak for the baby. "Don't you just want to hold me?" She looked up at him with large, deep blue eyes behind dark lashes. Her fat fist was in her mouth, drool dripping down her arm. _I guess if she wasn't so_ wet, _she would be sort of cute,_ he thought. _Like a purse puppy or a fuzzy pair of Louis Vuitton slippers._ David reached out and held her fat foot between his fingers.

"No, thank you," he muttered. 

"Great pic!" The teenager said suddenly, holding up her phone with a mischievous grin.

"Oh absolutely _not_ ," David proclaimed, moving his hand in front of his face.

"Kristen, you gotta sent me that," Patrick said with a laugh. David opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off when a man their age walked in.

"There's my princess!" He declared, taking the baby from Patrick. "Did you have fun with Cousin Pat?" He asked his daughter.

"Oh yes," Patrick replied, shooting David a smile. "She's so big, Jake."

"Well you haven't seen her in a while," Jake replied, playfully kicking his cousin's leg. "Whose ready to eat?" He said loudly, carrying the baby away. Kristen picked up the other baby.

"Me!" David said excitedly.

"Just sent it," Kristen told her cousin, and walked into the kitchen. "Somebody come this thing!" She joked to the gathering crowd. 

Patrick stood and helped Nana from her chair, escorting two of his favorite people into the frey of Brewers. 

Patrick made a mental note to inspect the picture later in private, where David couldn't intercept. David made a mental note to delete that picture from Patrick's phone the second he left it unattended. 

++++++

Somehow, half a dozen folding tables appeared out of nowhere and there was room for everyone to sit. Except for Nana going first, each table drew straws to decide the order of the Thanksgiving buffet line. David was very excited to know that their table went second, while he got a smattering of everything on his plate, he still asked Patrick the rules of second helpings. And maybe thirds. 

They sat at a rectangular card table across from Patrick's cousin Kelly, in from Vancouver, her brother Elliot and his wife Grace, who was holding one of the babies. David could not tell the difference between the two. They talked to Kelly about life in Vancouver, Patrick asking work questions and David wondering about the city nightlife.

When dinner began winding down, a table at the far end started getting rowdy. "Uh oh," Elliot said, smiling slyly at Patrick. "Is it game time?" Patrick grinned.

"I hope so!" 

Game Time must have been the consensus, because everyone began to get up and move. But, being a house full of Brewers, the first thing they did was begin cleaning. A few people started on the dishes, some stared packing up leftovers, the young boys wiping down the tables (but mostly spraying each other with the squirt bottles). Patrick and David helped gather the folding chairs and carried them to a large storage closet near the garage. With everyone pitching in, the place was spotless within minutes.

"Game time!" Jake announced loudly, and everyone cheered and started heading out the back door.

" _Where_ are we going?" David asked, afraid he already knew the answer.

"Outside!" Patrick said excitedly. "For the game!"

Twenty minutes later, David was standing on the grass, watching his boyfriend in a different Team Brewer t-shirt, chasing his cousins around a makeshift sports field.

"Why don't you head out with them?" Sarah asked, lowering herself into a roomy camping chair.

"I don't even know what _this_ is," he replied, gesturing to the guys tackling each other. "And I am _not_ in the appropriate attire." 

Sarah laughed. "Touch football," she informed him. "With increasingly more tackles as the game goes on."

"The boys play every year," Marcy said, appearing next to David, handing him a glass of red wine. He thanked her and took a sip. _Not a bad vintage,_ he thought. _Thank God they don't get Herb Ertlinger out here._

"Every year?" He repeated, not following the 'game' even a little.

"All year, every year." She looked up at him and smiled. "Started with Clint and his brothers, then the kids. Now the younger generation is jumping in, while the old guys step down." Pointed down a way to where Clint, Dan and Mark stood, shouting instructions to the boys. "The first holiday it's warm enough, they get out here and play. New team arrangement every year, a game every holiday, keeping roster and holding the 'championship' on Thanksgiving."

"It's all for fun," Sarah added. "There's no prize, they just get to gloat all winter."

"How often do they do this?" David asked.

"Every holiday they can. Easter, Victoria Day, Canada Day, Labour Day, and Thanksgiving, usually."

"You guys do _this_ ," he moved his hard around to emphasize the entirety of the group, " _that_ many times a year?!"

"Don't forget Christmas!" Sarah added.

He looked down sadly, placing a hand on her arm. "Marcy, I had no idea," he said softly. "Patrick has missed _all_ of that this year." She patted his hand. "I can't help but feel guilty."

"For what?"

"Keeping him away from his family," he said quietly. "My family is... _very_ different, so I just never imagined anyone getting together like this."

"David, dear, don't you dare," she said, wrapping her arm around his waist. "Pat loves these family games, that's true. But he needed to be out there. Needed to get away for a bit. He needed to find himself." She hugged him tight. "He needed to find you."

David didn't reply. He didn't even look down at her. He just stared ahead and took in a ragged breath. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and squeezed her back.


	7. Chapter 7

"This is _amazing_ ," David groaned, scraping the last remnants of pie from his plate and making an almost-inappropriate groan as he liked his fork. Patrick looked up at him and watched, chuckling.

"Uncle Mark is probably the best baker in the family," he explained. He raised his plate with a half-eaten piece of apple pie. "I'm stuffed, do you--" before he could finish David was taking the plate and spearing the pie with his fork.

"Yes, please!" 

Patrick laughed again, not taking his eyes off of his blissfully unaware boyfriend. He pushed off of the island where they were leaning, and came in front of David, placing an arm on either side of him. David moved his plate and looked down. Patrick reached up and used his thumb to brush a crumb from David's lower lip. Not taking his eyes from his mouth, he leaned in and up to softly kiss him. "You taste good," he whispered.

"That's the pie," David teased as Patrick stood, smirking. He took David's empty plate and his own fork over to the sink where Grace was washing dessert plates. He grabbed a towel and started to dry the stack of clean dishes. David finished his pie and brought the plate over, then helped Patrick put away the clean and dry plates into one of the many cupboards. 

On the way home later, they were all quiet, all of them tired and full from the day. David looked out the window, watching the passing scenery, and sighed with contentment. Patrick gazed at him fondly, reaching a hand over to hold his. David gave it a squeeze and yawned, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He knew, without looking, that Patrick was watching him. He could feel his eyes trace the profile of his nose, his lips, his chin, all while stroking his hand with his thumb. David leaned back, relishing the attention, but not in a vain way. He was not unaccustomed to people looking at him and watching him, with envy or lust or contempt. Watching him to see his next move and try to get there first, or to get a piece of him. But this? This was someone looking at him with nothing but care. Fondness. Love. This was something he was still getting used to, and it still made him uneasy at times. As if he were reading his mind, Patrick raised their hands to his mouth and kissed David's knuckles. David squeezed his hand in return, and turned his head, peeking open an eye at Patrick.

"Hi," Patrick murmured softly. David smiled at him. "Tired?" He could only nod in return, turning his head back and closing his eyes. It seemed like minutes later, though the sky was significantly darker now, that Patrick was rubbing his bicep. "David, we're back," he said softly. He lead David into the house, holding his hand and tracing patterns with his thumb. When they got inside, he turned and placed a soft kiss on David's mouth. "I'm going to take a shower. Why don't you go lay down?" David nodded and bent down to unlace his shoes.

Ten minutes later, Patrick emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam with a towel around his waist. He turned to head towards his bedroom but stopped short when he realized that David was standing there, inspecting the pictures that lined the walls.

"I thought you'd be asleep by now."

"I thought so too," David replied, eyes on the family picture from so many years ago. "But then I started looking at these and…"

"Got caught up in my adorable childhood photos?" Patrick teased. David smiled and looked at him, eyes misty. Patrick walked up to him, putting his free hand on the small of David's back.

"It's just--" he stopped, taking a deep breath. "I don't know, we never had this." He gestured towards the wall. "We never had a hallway of family photos displayed like this."

"Really?" Patrick was surprised, but knowing the Roses, he couldn't really picture a mansion wall full of family memories quite like this. 

"I mean, we had that _one_ commissioned life-sized portrait painted for us," David said with a laugh, "but I can't even think of a time anyone _took_ a picture of us that wasn't at some event." He took a deep breath and turned to look squarely at Patrick. "I guess I just love that you have a home. A _real_ home. To come back and visit and relive all of these memories." 

Patrick reached up and cupped David's face. "C'mon," he whispered, and they walked into his bedroom. Patrick gestured to the bed where David readily fell, curling up on his side and tucking himself under the blanket. Patrick slipped on a pair of boxer breifs and pajama pants and climbed in next to him. David turned around, letting Patrick wrap his arms around him, letting Patrick hold him. 

"You have a great family," David murmured at last. Patrick planted a kiss on his neck.

"The really like you."

David scoffed. "They really like _you,_ " he corrected. "They like each _other_. I've never seen a group of people like that getting along, without back-stabbing and rumor mongering." Patrick stayed silent, giving David the room to talk. "It was a family."

Patrick squeezed David in his arms, nestling his face into David's neck. "They can be your family, too." He paused, but took David's silence as a go-ahead. "Any time you want, they're there for you. For us."

David spun around, eyes wet and red. "I love you, Patrick Brewer," he said softly, snuggling up and laying his head on his chest.

Patrick ran his finger through David's hair, twirling a few strands around his finger. "I love you, David Rose." He felt David's arm tighten around his middle, and he planted a kiss on the top of his head. 

They lay there, intertwined, as their breathing began to steady and their bodies relaxed. Just as Patrick was drifting to sleep, half-way between a dream, he heard David's voice speaking softly.

"For the first time, I have something to be thankful for."


End file.
